Hypothetically
by Lmere969
Summary: For Naerys Targaryen, Happy Birthday!
I know it's not much, but here is a very hypothetical birthday present.

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Back story is yours to fill in, I hope there's nothing too presumptuous. Less than a couple of weeks, I know, but I had to thrown you off the scent somehow! Not sure if it worked :P No bees yet, but think this was everything else, so mystery over! ;) :D

Hope you're having a wonderful day, love you always.

Why did he have to put it back on the top shelf? I sighed as I stared up, so far above my head. Surely he was doing it on purpose, just to annoy me. Heaving out another breath, as if someone would have appeared to bear witness to my annoyance, I dragged a chair over, letting the feet scrap loudly along the floor. I'd just climbed up, my hand stretching for the pot, when there was a knock on the door. I turned at once. It was late, already dark outside. Who could possibly be there? Slowly, quietly, I stepped down from the chair, my hand inexorably finding one of the knives on the side.

"Who is it?" I called, my voice just as steady as my hand.

"Let me in, Katie." I drew in a sharp breath, moving to the door at once, watching my hand push away the bar as if it was someone else's appendage at the end of my limb. The door swung open, and there he stood, looking as if not a day had passed. The same sharp grey eyes, the same oh-so-floppy hair, half hiding them from view. Murtagh.

"You... What... I don't..." I didn't know what to say. He just stood there, a nervous grin playing around his mouth. "Get in then!" I cried, standing back, even as my eyes scanned the street outside. He slipped in the door, his movements eerily graceful, and I slammed the door behind him, dropping the bar back down before I turned to face him.

"What's that for?" he asked, nodding at my hand. I glanced down, then hastily put the knife back on the side, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.

"It's the middle of the night, what was I suppose to think? What's that?" I frowned at the box on the table beside him.

"That," he said, stepping to the side, out of the way, "is for you." I gave him a look, then moved slowly forwards, half expecting the box to do something; explode, or grow legs, or _something_. But it just sat, still and innocent on the table. Carefully, I peeled back the thin wrapping, and pushed off the lid. For a moment, I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. Then I gasped.

"Is that..."

"I wasn't sure if it was the right thing," Murtagh blurted out. "But I remember you said that it was your favourite. I had to put the fruit on myself, and it doesn't look very good, but—"

"Where did you get it?" I asked in awe, as I reached in, oh so carefully, and lifted out the cool plate.

"In the city," he admitted, and I looked across at him, having to crane my neck up further than I remembered. "No one knows it was me," he said at once. "But... yeah. Happy Birthday." I looked back to the cake, its pearly white frosting and the smattering of bright red berries over the top and round the bottom. It was beautiful, despite what he said about his berry placement skills. I reclaimed the knife from the side, and two smaller plates, unable to keep the grin from my face as I poised the knife over the cake, and cut carefully down, nodding Murtagh to a seat as I did so. In only seconds, we both had a slice of cake before us, despite the late hour. For a moment, I just stared down at the fluffy yellow cake, and the smooth cream, hesitating to remember the image before scooping up the first bit and putting it in my mouth. I couldn't hold in a moan of pleasure.

"I haven't had Chantilly cake since my wedding," I sighed, my eyes closed as I savoured the taste of heaven. Murtagh's fork scraped a little on his plate as he joined me.

"You're married?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the cake in his mouth. I nodded, opening my eyes to peek at his face. He was smiling.

"Yes, just under a year," I said.

"Are you happy?" he asked, and his voice was so serious I couldn't help smiling.

"Yes," I said gently. "He can be a bit... crabby, sometimes, but he loves me."

"He's not here?" It wasn't really a question, and his face darkened as he glanced around the empty room, as if he was expecting a bear to loom suddenly from the shadows. "On your birthday?" My face fell a little, but I fought to keep my smile in place as I shook my head.

"No, he had to go into the city, on business. He tried to put it off, but..." I lifted one shoulder as I grimaced a little. "He got his half-sister to bring me flowers though," I said, nodding to the pretty blooms in the middle of the table. The white roses seemed to glow with their own light, shaming the dim illumination from the candles.

"They're beautiful," he murmured, and I smiled, taking another bite of cake, but my face grew a little more sombre as I watched him. "What?" he asked, meeting my gaze, a little wary.

"Nothing," I said, smoothing my face out. "Where's Thorn?" Murtagh pointed at the ceiling with a silent grin, which I took to mean the dragon was far above our heads. There were so many things I wanted to ask him. Where he'd been, if he was okay, if he was _really_ back, but I didn't want to bring it up, so we just sat and ate cake, as darkness gathered outside the windows, but was unable to penetrate in.

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 **A/N: Back story is yours to fill in, I hope there's nothing too presumptuous. Less than a couple of weeks, I know, but I had to thrown you off the scent somehow! Not sure if it worked :P No bees yet, but think this was everything else, so mystery over! ;) :D**

 **Hope you're having a wonderful day, love you always.**


End file.
